How To Make An Omelet
First get a ladder.
This will be useful
When you decide to come down off the roof.
Immerse yourself in conversation for 3-19 lunar days.
Take off that ridiculous wig.
Introduce your wife to your husband.
Let them work it out.
A few puns will get you through the shareholders meeting
And then there is only the taxidermist to contend with.
She will have some ideas about where you should stand.
Do not heed these; she is distracting you
From the cavalry raiding the village to your left
(your other left).
Right about now, the sun caves in.
Here come the bleeding children.
Calm them with your yo-yo.
Hold one close until he is done screaming.
Saint Peter will wander over with an offering
Of jerky, you can ignore him
But thank the man in the wedding dress profusely.
He is your kind of scientist.
It is safe to put the child down now.
Already he is running to his new toy.
If he does not look back, you are ready to begin.
We’re All Getting A Little Tired Of Bill
We will put him out on the solarium
until he seems fresh again.
We will lash him to the ceiling fan
or hide him under the rug.
The dinner guests will ask
“Is that Bill under that rug?”
and we will laugh ourselves to tears
and refill their thermoses.
I say dinner guests but this is an exaggeration.
They were more like parents
and when it was time for bed
we had to plead with them for just one more hour
of teaching termites sign language,
which was all we ever wanted to do at that age.
Nothing is harder for a termite
than not being able to communicate
to its betters, by which I mean moths.
They send the termites out
on all manner of fool’s errands
and play rummy in their designer cocoons
until the termites come limping in
from having scoured the yard sales
of the Pacific Northwest,
laden with armoires and sewing tables.
This is the kind of thing Bill would tell us all the time.
See what I mean?
When Bill has finally repented
for being so unbearably Bill
we will throw him a little party with dancing amputees
and take turns brushing his teeth
and he will be so elated and grateful
that we will tire of him again
and gnaw him into pieces
small enough to fit under our fingernails.
Maybe we won’t feel so great about this
but what else can you do with a man
who has a nickname
for each of his eyelashes
and makes a big show about putting his pants on
two legs at a time?
Sometimes we hear him telling his interminable anecdotes
from our cuticles – nobody could tell a story
about Bill like Bill – and sometimes
we even laugh along with him
when he tells one of his patented Bill jokes.
“What was the sun’s philosophy on life?”
(What, Bill?)
“It has its ups and downs.”
I had to pull over I laughed so hard.
But Bill, being the joyless
Bill that he is, said, “No, no,
I must have told it wrong.”
